A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: The Deepest Cut
by J. Watson
Summary: Formerly titled "A Nightmare on Elm Street 2 Prologue." Nancy and Quentin have a bigger nightmare in store for them. This is my multi-chapter sequel to ANOES 2010 .
1. What a Difference a Year Makes

_You're a monster too. And there's nothing you can do about it. _

Although it was spring, Nancy Holbrook relished the East Bay's briskness. It was a far cry from the manicured feel of Springwood. UC Berkeley turned out to be a great fit for somebody of her artistic caliber. She had toyed with the idea of attending San Francisco State University. But Nancy felt that Berkeley was like a miniature San Francisco. It still had that intimate feel. Whenever she needed inspiration, Nancy visited the street vendors on Telegraph Avenue.

Berkeley transformed Nancy. The city and campus practically seeped into her bones. But on the outside, she still felt like that shy girl from Springwood. On a whim, she had her chestnut hair cut to shoulder-length with bangs. It was also dyed a dark red. Nancy experimented with makeup, sometimes wearing a light green eyeshadow. She started using nothing but hemp products, as it conditioned her hair from the harsh dyes. Instead of wearing long-sleeved shirts, Nancy instead covered her arms with jewelry. It was such a drastic transformation that Nancy's classmates told her that she looked like an art piece. Nancy laughed at their compliments: _If the new look got her art showcased at the Berkeley Art Museum, why not?_

Gwen, Nancy's mother, did not know what to think. While she was happy that her daughter was blossoming, Gwen also wondered if Nancy was experiencing an identity crisis. She had spent so many years sheltering Nancy from the truth. When the truth about Freddy Krueger exploded last year, Gwen wondered if Nancy could cope. Then, there was the strange business that involved Quentin Smith. Not to mention the deaths of Nancy's classmates. When Nancy got accepted into UC Berkeley, Gwen did not want her daughter moving to another state alone. So, as a compromise, Gwen moved with Nancy to Berkeley—though she let Nancy live on the campus.

Despite the work tensions between Gwen and the other doctors in her medical group, life was looking better. At least, Nancy was no longer having the nightmares.

* * *

><p>Punctuality still was not Quentin Smith's best quality. Otherwise, he would not be running late to class again. On top of that, he was parked on the other side of the Ohio State University campus—requiring a farther-than-usual walk.<p>

"Hey asshole, watch where you're fucking going!" yelled a jock that Quentin bumped into.

"Sorry man…won't happen again," said Quentin.

"You're that newspaper guy, right?" asked the jock.

"Yeah, I'm Quentin Smith."

"That article you wrote about the athletic department really sucked ass," said the jock.

Usually, Quentin had a retort. But given that he was already late for Political Science 25, Quentin let the comment pass.

"Whatever," said Quentin, as he continued to Derby Hall.

After class, Quentin planned to text Nancy. He often got confused about the time difference, which Nancy politely informed him of once. Quentin had called her in the middle of the night. Gwen did not know that they were still communicating with each other. She probably figured that once she and Nancy moved to Berkeley, Quentin would be out of the picture. That was the great thing about technology. It allowed Quentin and Nancy to maintain a long distance relationship.

But lately, Quentin started to feel left out. Nancy was in Berkeley. Not only was Berkeley amazing, but Nancy seemed to be changing before his eyes. He did not necessarily like Nancy's new look. But her face seemed to light up, so Quentin kept his peace. She also seemed more passionate about her art. Quentin was surprised that Nancy made friends. He remembered her as always being a standoffish loner. Last year, things did change though with Freddy Krueger. Maybe Nancy was finally living. Quentin felt conflicted. He felt selfish, but at the same time, he did not want to lose Nancy. She was the only person she had in what has proved to be a messed-up world.


	2. Nancy's Dilemma

Nancy closed her eyes for a moment, and let her thoughts roam free again. During class at Kroeber Hall yesterday, Nancy daydreamed while she sat at the potter's wheel.

As the burgundy clay danced between her fingers, she thought of Quentin. Her mother told her that this day would come. _Nancy, I know you have feelings for him. But things are going to change once you start school at Berkeley. You're going to meet new people, and Springwood will fade more and more as you come into your own_.

On their last night together in Springwood, Nancy wondered if she and Quentin should have sex. It seemed like the normal thing for a teenaged couple to do. Who knew how long it'd be before they saw each other again? But they just spent the night holding each other, and listening to some podcasts that Quentin found interesting.

It was ironic how everything worked out. They spent most of their lives orbiting around each other—avoiding eye contact and speaking in hushed tones. And when it came time to admit their feelings for each other, it was only because Freddy Krueger manifested. When your life is threatened, what once seemed like an obstacle suddenly becomes conquerable. But they weren't exactly star-crossed lovers. Quentin and Nancy shared a dirty secret, and it wasn't just the one that involved their parents.

Nancy didn't know how she was going to break up with Quentin. It wasn't the sort of thing that you texted to someone. With such a distance between them, Nancy wondered if Quentin felt the same way. But what if he didn't? What if he asked for a reason why?

"_I feel compelled to be with you sometimes because you saved my life. I was going to be trapped forever by that fucking bastard." _

"_I feel ashamed that you saw those pictures of me being molested—even though you experienced the same thing. But it was different because he didn't take pictures while he did it to you to commemorate the moment."_

"_Because you're always so careful with me. Like you're afraid that I'm going to break at any moment. Nobody wants to disturb poor Nancy. She might have a breakdown or go emo on all of us." _

"_Because you've been acting like a jealous prick. I know you don't like my new look, my friends, or that I didn't go all political like you would have done if you attended Berkeley." _

"_I want to go back to feeling that not everything is a complete lie. It's already hard enough that I have to face and talk to my mother everyday. She tried to bury all of this, and look how fucked up I am."_

"_I feel awkward enough kissing you. I can't imagine sharing my body with you. I almost felt forced to do it when it was our last night together. I don't know if I would've just lied there or strangled you with your ear bud." _

"_I'm slowly losing my mind because I've been losing time."_

Out of all the reasons, Nancy never imagined her losing time would be one of them. It became apparent to her a few months ago.

There was one Monday that she started her first class at 9:00am. The next thing she knew, Nancy was standing in her dorm room. The window was wide open, and she was just staring outside. She was clad in her underwear. Nancy turned her attention to the clock and it was 6:45pm. When Nancy checked her phone, she saw that her mother left four messages. Nancy called her mother, and lied about doing a time-consuming project at Doe Library.

Another time, Nancy decided to kill time at the Berkeley Art Museum and Pacific Film Archive. There was a student film on radio broadcasting. As she waited for the doors to open, Nancy remembers studying a minimalist painting. Then, Nancy found herself at a Starbucks. It was three hours later. She was in mid-conversation with a guy that she didn't recognize. Nancy excused herself abruptly, and before the guy could fully express his confusion, she was darting back to her dorm. There were other times that Nancy was losing time, but they were not as extreme. She was able to snap out of her stupor before things grew unrecognizable.

Nancy couldn't pin losing time on sleep deprivation. She was taking a dream suppressant, so there was no difficulty falling asleep. There weren't any micro-naps to be concerned about. Nancy looked online to see if there were any strange side effects associated with the drug. She didn't find anything. Nothing to make Nancy brush everything off like it was a minor inconvenience. She couldn't just change her dosage to make it all go away.

So, once again, Nancy felt that uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. Her friends would ask if she was okay from time to time. Even though Nancy was pretending that she was fine, there was no mistaking her anxiety. Why else was she always chipping away at her nail polish? Lies, lies, lies. Nancy wondered if she was all that different from her mother.

As she sat at the Berkeley Rose Garden, Nancy was formulating a plan. She needed to get help, but not from her mother. Her mother would overreact just like she did for everything that concerned Nancy. Maybe Nancy could talk to someone at the Tang Center. Whatever she decided, it would be her move alone. She didn't want anybody interfering, and clouding her judgment. Nancy was into survival.


	3. Quentin's Luck

It had been two days already, and no response from Nancy. Quentin had texted her about the latest news in Springwood. They were building a children's hospital over the burned grounds of Badham Preschool.

_A children's hospital…at a place where a groundskeeper molested and mutilated several children. Didn't anybody ever dig into the history of this town?_

But Quentin really couldn't fault outsiders. He grew up in Springwood, and had no clue about what the parents did to Freddy Krueger. How could somebody else find the truth? When Quentin read about Baker & Ford's new hospital project, there was no mention about there ever being a preschool. The Springwood residents didn't protest one bit. _They buried the scandal once again_. But then, there were state-of-the-art hospitals all over Ohio, and Springwood only had the dilapidated Westin Hills. Who wouldn't say yes to improved medical care?

While construction was being done, Baker & Ford's Children's Hospital (the company) rented a nearby space as a makeshift clinic. As he stood outside of the new facility, Quentin checked his phone again. No missed calls from Nancy. _Maybe she's taking the news hard _thought Quentin _It's not like Elm Street was a happy place for her_.

It wasn't a happy place for Quentin, either. But he could legitimately say he was a student journalist at Ohio State University. He might gain access to the construction site, and check up about the patients. He needed to know if the children were dreaming of Freddy Krueger. _Damn it, Nancy, I need you for this_. _I don't expect you to fly over here, but some support would be nice._ Quentin chided himself for being so selfish.

There was no time for self-loathing, as a young woman dressed in a lab coat stepped out of a side entrance. She desperately fetched out a cigarette from her designer purse. Quentin figured her to be about 22 or 24. Her pixie black hair stuck out in awkward angles, and her green eyes look tired. Quentin didn't give himself time to think if she was a good "interview" candidate.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time," said Quentin, in his best serious journalist voice.

"I'm on a break, so make it fast," said the young woman, as she lit her cigarette.

"I'm with the Frontline at…" said Quentin.

"At Ohio State University…yeah, I know the school…come on, my break's almost over," finished the young woman. She took a hearty drag.

"Okay, well, I'm doing a story about the new children's hospital, and…" said Quentin.

"So call the press team then…here's their number," replied the young woman, as she took a business card from her coat pocket and wrote a number on it.

"Here…hope you get your 'big scoop.' "If you want you can flip over the card and get the free sandwich it promises" said the woman with a sarcastic chuckle.

"Look this place has a terrible history," said Quentin.

"Indian burial ground?" replied the woman, as she stubbed out the cigarette with her high-heeled boot. "I'm sure the attorneys took care of that. They seem to take care of everything," she said over her shoulder as she headed back in.

"The preschool that was here had some bad shit associated with it. The town is uneasy about a children's hospital because of it, but nobody is saying anything. I'm trying to write something good, because this place needs a hospital. Can you help me out?"

Of course it was a lie, but Quentin hoped it would be enough for her to bite. After all, if you're a student intern (which he figured she was), you don't want to be out of a job anytime soon. Especially with such a bad economy.

"Are you sure you want to take this on?" asked the young woman.

"I grew up here. This is my town. I'm just looking out for it," responded Quentin.

"Fine…but you need to contact the CEO over in Columbus first…" said the young woman.

"You know, I'd rather just interview you if that's all right…" said Quentin.

The young woman spoke over him. "…you'll have a better chance of getting the director to agree to the story. He's wary of bad press."

"How do I…?" asked Quentin.

"Give me your phone," demanded the young woman. Quentin complied. She went into his address book, and typed in a phone number. "Remember, I didn't give this to you."

"I'll remember," said Quentin. "Is this his direct line?"

"It's better to call him in the morning. He's more receptive when his blood sugar isn't so low."

"I don't know what to say," said Quentin.

"Don't mention it," said the young woman. "I'm late now. The nurse practitioner's going to be pissed."

"What's you name?" asked Quentin.

"Mackenzie Ford."

"As in…?" asked Quentin.

"As in, yes, my great-grandfather was one of the founders. Guilty. Nepotism at its finest," replied Mackenzie. She closed the side entrance door behind her.

_Oh shit_ thought Quentin _What did I just get myself into?_


	4. Mount and Dismount

Nancy thought about visiting a private practitioner. But she figured that her best financial bet would be the Tang Center. Besides, there might be a better chance for confidentiality.

As she sat in the waiting room, Nancy clicked her pen nervously. She toyed with the idea of texting Quentin, and letting him know what was going on. Nancy figured that he was probably worried. But she couldn't take the risk of bringing him in, not when she finally summoned the courage to take action.

"Nancy Holbrook, Dr. Forrest is ready to see you."

Nancy was shown towards a hallway painted in a teal color.

"Hello, Nancy, it's nice to meet you," said Dr. Neil Forrest, as he stood at his office door. Despite his conservative style, Neil looked like a weathered male model. He looked to be in his forties, with chiseled features that were framed by blonde wavy hair.

"It's nice to meet you too, Dr. Forrest" said Nancy.

"You may call me Neil," said Neil, as he motioned into his office. "Please have a seat."

"Sure," replied Nancy, as she sat in the plush leather chair. Her messenger bag slumped clumsily to the floor. "Sorry."

"No need for apologies. I once had a student that had a briefcase and a laptop. For a moment there, I couldn't tell if he was a tourist or a student."

Nancy laughed at Neil's lame attempt at humor.

"So, enough with my stale jokes…it says here that you have been having some problems lately. But before we start, I just need to ask you a few routine questions."

"Okay," responded Nancy.

"You wrote on your patient form that you take a dream suppressant. And you've been taking it for a year now?"

"Yes."

"Did you experience any side effects?" asked Neil.

"No, none. I was told there might be some, but I didn't have any reactions."

"Are you taking any other medications—prescription or otherwise?"

"No…just the occasional aspirin."

"Do you consume alcohol or engage in recreational drug use?"

"Uh, no, I don't drink. I don't do any of the other stuff either."

"Just to confirm, have you ever been diagnosed with a mental disorder by a physician or psychiatrist?"

"No," said Nancy.

"Do you have a history of any mental disorders in your family…such as schizophrenia?" asked Neil.

"No, not that I'm aware of," responded Nancy.

"Thank you for answering those questions, Nancy," said Neil. "Can you describe to me what you've been experiencing?"

"Well, lately…I've had moments that I'm somewhere…and then I'm somewhere else and I don't know how I got there. One time, there was a three-hour difference."

"When did you first realize that it happened?" asked Neil.

"A few months ago," said Nancy.

"And…has this been happening more frequently?" asked Neil.

"Yes. I would say that it happened a few other times."

"Did you ever experience time lapses at any other time in your life?"

"No. It's just been the last few months."

"In the last few months, have there been any major changes in your life?"

"No, I've been living here in Berkeley for about a year. My mother still lives close by, so I have family."

"Has there been any recent strain in your relationship with your mother?"

"No, no strain. We get along just like any normal mother and daughter."

"Are you doing all right in school? Have you had any performance issues?" asked Neil.

"No, everything has been all right school-wise," said Nancy.

"So, these episodes haven't impacted your academic performance?" asked Neil.

"No. I'm still doing well," responded Nancy.

"Tell me, Nancy, do you remember feeling anything whenever the time lapses happened? Like blurred vision, a seizure, loss of balance?" asked Neil.

"No, I don't feel anything at all. I never know when it's going to happen," said Nancy.

"Do you ever have moments when you feel like you're somebody else?" asked Neil.

"I don't follow," responded Nancy.

"Have you ever forgotten your name when you've had those time lapses?" asked Neil.

"No…I just…I finally realize where I'm at," said Nancy.

"Nancy, I need you to tell me if you've ever been abused in any way."

Nancy froze with Neil's question. Should she answer truthfully?

"Nancy, I need you to be as truthful as possible. The more you tell me, the better chance we have at getting to the root of the time lapses."

Nancy shifted in her seat, before the words came out: "Yes, I was molested."

* * *

><p>According to Neil, he suspected that Nancy was showing possible signs of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. While Nancy didn't tell him the full details of what transpired last year, he theorized that confronting her repressed memories may have triggered the time lapses. Unfortunately, it wasn't something that could be fixed overnight. Nancy needed to have more sessions with Neil. It was unclear if she would have to be medicated.<p>

Nancy didn't know what she was expecting. To be treated in a single session? She should've known better, especially given the lengths that her own mother went to erase Freddy from Nancy's mind. For the time being, Nancy had to snap out of what happened in Neil's office. She had to focus on getting to class at Morrison Hall. There wasn't much time, and Nancy was barely getting close to Hearst Gym.

As she passed the gym, she heard music coming from a side entrance. Nancy peaked in, and saw some students doing gymnastics practice. They were converging around a balance beam as each student showcased their skills. Nancy watched the girls perform their maneuvers in their form-fitting leotards.

"Great form on the beam, Vanessa," said the coach, "But you still need to work on the landing. When you land, you should tighten your core…"

The students were so transfixed by the coach's criticism that they didn't notice Nancy remove her shoes, and climb onto the balance beam. It wasn't until everybody's eyes went towards Nancy that the instructor finally noticed.

"Excuse me, but this is a practice. You can't be on the beam," said the coach.

No sooner had the words been uttered that Nancy did a salto and landed effortlessly on her feet. With outstretched arms, Nancy did a leg bend before returning her foot back to its place.

"You need to get off the beam now!" barked the coach.

Nancy then proceeded to do three back handsprings until dismounting and landing perfectly on the mat. Everybody in the class gave a collective sigh.

"I don't know who you are, but if you don't leave this instance, I'm calling campus security," said the coach. She was walking towards Nancy until Nancy collapsed on the mat.

"Hey, are you okay?" asked the coach, as she ran to assist Nancy.

"Where am I?" asked Nancy.

"Hearst Gym. You were on our equipment just a second ago."

"What?" asked Nancy. She looked at the balance beam, and suddenly she could recall herself doing the gymnastic moves. To the class, it might've seemed that Nancy crashed the gathering to show off her skills. But what they didn't know was that Nancy never took a gymnastic class in her life.

"I…I have to get to class," stuttered Nancy, as she grabbed her belongings and bolted out of the gym.

"You can't be in here again, do you understand?" Nancy could hear the coach's words over her shoulder.

Nancy sped down Durant Avenue, and stormed into one of the cafes. As she made a beeline to the restroom, she could hear the owner say "Bathroom only for customers. Miss!" Nancy locked herself in the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face, and tried to make sense of what just happened. It made her think if she did things like that during her time lapses—only this was the first one that she could actually remember.

_I wouldn't think so hard about it. _

Nancy looked around as she clutched the paper towel to her damp face.

_You were his favorite, so why wouldn't we want to be close to you._

Nancy looked in the mirror before her, and saw a strawberry blonde staring back at her with emerald eyes. She had a slash mark that ran from her ear down to her chest. The girl's face resembled alabaster.

_Be prepared to meet the new you. Let me introduce myself…I'm Becca. I can't wait for you to meet the others. _The reflection tilted her head and smiled at Nancy.

Nancy was so panic-stricken that she couldn't hear the café owner banging on the door. All she could comprehend was that there was another nightmare in store for her.


	5. Reunion

Quentin strayed away from the other press tour attendees. He walked down a corridor that looked familiar. Was it the same place that Nancy and he went through to find Freddy's lair?

* * *

><p>He made the call three days beforehand.<p>

Quentin didn't use the phone number that Mackenzie gave him. Instead, he contacted the CEO's secretary Marge. Quentin kept it short: student journalist with _Frontline_ (Ohio State), wanted to schedule an interview with the hospital's director, writing a piece about medical care and the new hospital, etc.

She sounded very indifferent about the request, so Quentin didn't think anything would come out of the call. He was very surprised when Marge called back and informed him about Friday.

"You called at an opportune time. This Friday, they're having a press tour. Mr. Call and Mr. Sanderson thought it'd be great to have a student publication cover the event. The ribbon cutting ceremony is at 10:00am. If you give me your email address, I'll send you the itinerary with the event details."

Edwin Ford was the CEO, and Paul Sanderson was the hospital's director. Both of them were going to be at the event. _Frontline_'s editor didn't mind the heartwarming story idea (Quentin omitted the part about Nancy, the other kids, and Freddy), though he wasn't going to send a cameraman with Quentin. Quentin had his own digital camera, so he didn't worry about the photography part. "Remember to bring the disclaimers," said Bill, his editor.

So, Quentin packed the disclaimers into his messenger bag, and set off for the press tour. He smoothed down his unruly hair with his palm. At least the rest of him looked well put together. He was wearing a black corduroy shirt, and gray slacks. He even dusted off his Steve Madden's, which he last wore at a wedding. His father Allen would be proud.

Quentin parked along the street, and footed it to the press tour. He could see Mackenzie from a distance. Her spiky hair was slicked back like a flamenco dancer. She wore a form-fitting bronze dress that reached her knees. Quentin was astonished. _Remember, you have a girlfriend, Quentin_.

_Yeah, one that never calls _said the less disciplined part of him. Mackenzie met eyes with Quentin.

"Glad you could make it, Ohio State. Do you have your press badge?" asked Mackenzie.

"No, but I have a ton of disclaimers," responded Quentin. He gave a half smile.

"Oh my, you're serious," said Mackenzie, as she peered into his messenger bag.

"Only if I take a picture," said Quentin.

"Well, you have your work cut out for the interviews then," said Mackenzie. She was interrupted by a middle-aged man. She whispered something in his ear, and he went in the opposite direction.

"Hey, thanks for giving me the contact," said Quentin.

"My pleasure," said Mackenzie.

"So…why did you give it to me? If there was the chance that I'd be writing something that wasn't so nice," asked Quentin.

"I've read your work," said Mackenzie. "If anything, you're always fair. If you truly believed that the construction plans were bad, you wouldn't have asked for an interview. It would've been easy to shit on this place."

Quentin couldn't believe that Mackenzie read his stuff.

"What have you read of mine?" asked Quentin.

"My brother's on the football team. You sure handed him his cocky ass on a silver platter," said Mackenzie.

They both exchanged conspiratorial smiles. Quentin never noticed before how full her lips were.

* * *

><p>Quentin sat a few rows down from Mackenzie. But there was no mistaking the long legs that extended from that dress. He felt nervous about the entire affair, mainly because he ached to see the building's interior. Quentin took enough notes to write a one-page piece. He was going to deliver what was expected of him: a heartwarming piece. <em>Medical care at its best.<em>

Of course, you might wonder why they decided to do a press tour in the first place. Wouldn't you wait until construction was completed?

It became apparent by Ford's and Sanderson's speeches that the building is a green project, and the press tour was about championing renewable resources. In the lobby, there was a slideshow that showed how the building will operate on active solar power. A proposed green roof will reduce rainwater waste, and double as a therapeutic garden for the children. The windows were constructed to provide daylighting, and lessen the need for electrical lighting. The curtains were made from flax linen, and the floors comprised of non-toxic linoleum. After awhile, Quentin was overwhelmed by the calcium stone counters. He could support any other green building, but not this one.

He strayed away from the other press tour attendees. Quentin walked down a corridor that looked familiar, but he couldn't tell if it was the battleground that Nancy and he last faced Freddy. As he continued walking down the hallway, the tour group sounded farther away as their footsteps and voices faded. Quentin then noticed the outline of a square on a wall. He traced his palm against it, and wondered if this was the tunnel that led to Freddy's lair.

"Feeling any ghosts?"

Quentin jumped at the voice. He turned and saw Mackenzie standing there. She chuckled lightly.

"So, has the facility been blessed by your presence?" asked Mackenzie.

"So far, so good," replied Quentin. He shook his head in reflexive embarrassment.

"I didn't see you with the group, so I thought I'd check up on you," said Mackenzie.

"Oh, sorry, I just wanted to study the architecture," said Quentin.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" asked Mackenzie, unconvinced by Quentin's architecture comment.

"No, not really," said Quentin.

"Come on, join the group before they call security," said Mackenzie. She grabbed Quentin's hand, and he complied. He was too distracted to feel his phone vibrating in his messenger bag.

* * *

><p>"I'm so relieved that this is over," said Mackenzie, as she removed her shoes. Her and Quentin were sitting on a bench away from the gatherers. He escorted her to the bench when she lost her balance, and almost twisted her ankle. "I do this for my father, for his photo opportunity moments."<p>

"Does it feel strange to work for the same establishment as him?" asked Quentin.

"Most of the time, I'm so engrossed by my work that I forget being related to him. If you interacted with him, you'd see just how opposite we are. He always tells me that I took from my mother." Mackenzie lit a cigarette and took a long drag.

"Apparently, my smoking habits are hereditary too. But I think it's more environmental. You can't help but smoke when you're around my father. He's so conservative."

"I know how that is. My father is the principal of Springwood High School," said Quentin.

"I bet people thought you have all of these wonderful perks. Like you're able to skip class or get passing grades with no effort. But in actuality, your father is watching you the hardest. I feel your pain," said Mackenzie.

"Why did you enter the medical field?" asked Quentin.

"Because it's all I know. No matter how much I could've rebelled, I'd still be back at the same place," replied Mackenzie. She looked towards the crowd and saw her father.

"I better be getting back. My father wants me to have dinner with him and his sponsors. I need to be Audrey Hepburn now."

"Well, this has been great. I have plenty for my article," said Quentin. Mackenzie fastened her shoes, and hobbled off to the crowd.

"Mackenzie," uttered Quentin.

She turned, and Quentin took her photograph.

"I didn't sign a disclaimer," said Mackenzie.

"Well, I guess I'll have to come back for your signature," said Quentin.

She smiled and walked off.

* * *

><p>In his dorm room, as the day replayed in Quentin's mind, he felt that he had to look again for himself. He didn't know how he arrived at the construction site. Did he zone out as he drove from Ohio State? No matter. He was there to see if anything strange happened in the night. The wind rattled the leaves from the trees above. Quentin was knee high in red and orange foliage.<p>

Quentin could hear a tapping sound. He looked at the side of the building—a window was beating against the frame because of the wind. _I could be setting myself up for some bad shit_ thought Quentin, as he climbed through a side window. Quentin momentarily froze when he pondered whether the area had security cameras. It was too late for him, especially when half of his body was already in the building. Quentin didn't have to decide. He lost his balance and crashed onto the floor. His camera light turned on by itself, and cast a faint glow across the corridor.

Quentin stood up, massaged his right arm, and wandered through the lobby area. Some of the counter spaces were covered with plastic. They must have covered them once the press tour had ended. There was even the smell of clay in the air. As Quentin proceeded, there were adjacent rooms that were incomplete. Some of the windows were lined with tape, while others had fixtures leaning against the walls. Obviously, they were not shown to the attendees.

So far, there was nothing out of the ordinary. It just looked like a normal building. Nothing different at nighttime. But as Quentin proceeded to walk through the halls, he had a strange feeling in his gut—even though nothing seemed amiss.

Quentin dropped his camera when he saw a figure loom across the hallway in the distance. He felt the floor for the camera, and cut his finger on a dislodged part. Quentin swore to himself as he tried to turn on the camera light. It wasn't working.

A faint squeaking noise reverberated through the hallway. It sounded like fingernails against a chalkboard. Or like knives scraping against metal. He stood still as a cold breeze swept through the hallway.

Then, his face was next to Quentin's. "Quentin," hissed Freddy Krueger, "It's 'big brother' time. Have I ever spoken to you about girls…especially when one breaks your heart?"

He slammed Quentin against the wall. Blood dripped down Quentin's head, as he was dragged up from the ground and pulled close to Freddy's face. Quentin could smell breath that reeked of death, smoke and dust.

Quentin could barely contain himself. "You're not real. We stopped you, you motherfucker."

Freddy twisted Quentin's left hand. "That's not a nice thing to say to me." Quentin squirmed under Freddy's iron grip.

"Where is she? Where's my little Nancy? She's hiding from me."

"I'll never tell you," replied Quentin, as the sweat beaded on his face.

"You said you would never tell before. And this is what happened because you couldn't keep a secret," said Freddy, as he waved his finger blades over his face for emphasis.

Quentin could hear his ringtone in the distance. Freddy smirked, as Quentin's vision faded from the hallway to his dorm room.

* * *

><p>He jolted in his bed. <em>It was just a dream. It doesn't mean anything. Nancy dreamed of him, but he wasn't back. <em>

"Hello?" asked Quentin. He had a delayed reaction to his painful wrist.

"Quentin, it's Gwen Holbrook. I know we haven't spoken awhile, but…Nancy's missing…and…I was wondering if she spoke to you recently," said Gwen. Quentin could hear the distress in Gwen's voice.

Quentin was shocked to see his reflection. He could see blood coursing down his head passed his ear.

_What have I done?_ thought Quentin. _Freddy's back._


	6. The Flatest Surface

As she stormed out of the bathroom, Nancy collided with the restaurant owner.

"Hey, goddamn it. Restrooms are for customers only!" he yelled from the floor.

Nancy didn't hear him. She rushed passed the people on Durant Avenue. Some angrily turned their heads back in her direction.

As Nancy headed back to the Tang Center, she could hear muffled voices in her head. Nancy entered the Tang Center, and tried the doorknob to Dr. Forrest's office. It was locked. When she looked down at her watch, it suddenly dawned on Nancy that she was Dr. Forrest's last patient for the day.

"Dr. Forrest…Neil…are you there? Please, I need your help," pleaded Nancy.

"What I did on the balance beam today was nothing. That was a warm up. You should've seen me at the state championships. All the girls from St. Mary's didn't know what to say."

Nancy turned her attention to the hallway and saw Becca, the strawberry blonde girl from the mirror.

"I might've made it to the Olympics, but Freddy did this to me."

Suddenly, Becca was nude and floating in water. Nancy could see slash marks appear on Becca's wrists and ankles. The blood turned the water crimson as Becca's eyes became glassy.

"He attacked me when I feel asleep in the tub. When my mother found me, it looked like a suicide. Everyone was devastated—thinking that I killed myself."

Nancy jumped when Neil put his hand on her shoulder.

"Nancy, what are you doing here?" asked Neil.

Nancy turned back to look for Becca, but she was gone.

"I need your help, Neil."

* * *

><p>Nancy was once again in Neil's office. But the places were switched now. Nancy was in a chair, and Neil was sitting on the edge of the sofa.<p>

"I don't normally do this for my patients. But I'm making the exception for you, given your circumstances. Before we can proceed, I need to know that you've calmed down from your experience."

Nancy didn't answer him. She was completely discombobulated.

"Nancy, you told me you were sexually abused. It's not abnormal for somebody to develop a split personality. Granted, it usually shows up earlier in a person's life. But a coping mechanism doesn't necessarily have a timeline."

"Really, so have _you _ever heard of a split personality doing gymnastics?" Her eyes looked wild, as she leaned in towards Neil.

"People with split personalities have done extreme things. Some turn to promiscuity. Others do dangerous feats that are life-threatening. As I said, the personality is a coping mechanism. Your mind is distancing itself from what it considers weak."

Nancy looked at Neil inquisitively. He still didn't answer her question. Neil could sense it.

"All right…I would think that a split personality would still know its physical limitations. I can only go by what you're telling me. If you're telling me the truth, and you've never done gymnastics before, then how exactly did you learn it?"

"Exactly! Then, tell me what's going on with me?" asked Nancy desperately. "First you said I have PTSD. Then, because of what I saw, I might have a split personality. Which is it…why am I losing time and doing things that I've never done before!"

"Nancy, please, I need you to control yourself. In order to answer your questions, we need to know what's happening in your head. Perhaps we can try hypnosis, and see if you can connect with…'Becca' did you say?"

"Yes, Becca," said Nancy. Saying the name only made her feel panicky.

"To get into your mind, we're going to try hypnosis." Neil opened a cabinet. He took out a Newton's cradle, and placed it on his desk. Nancy was confused as to why Neil would bring that out. It was a pendulum comprised of several metal spheres.

Then, Neil brought out a Chevreul's pendulum.

"Okay, Nancy, I want you to hold this pendulum in your right hand. Now, hold it up to here so that your eyes can focus on it." Neil moved Nancy's hand above her head so that the pendulum was at eye level.

"I want you to swing the pendulum around. As it moves, focus on a spot within the pendulum, and keep your eyes on that spot."

Nancy could see the pendulum drifting within her eyesight and towards her peripheral vision. She focused on the flattest surface she could see on the pendulum.

"Now, notice how your eyes keep getting heavier…heavier…keep focusing on that spot…feel your eyes get heavier as you feel more drawn to that spot."

Nancy's eyelids felt like sandbags, as she struggled to keep her vision clear. Had it not been for the Hypnocil, Nancy would've dreaded the idea of closing her eyes.

"You're feeling the incredible need to close your eyes as you continue focusing on that spot…as the pendulum continues to move more and more. And as your arm becomes heavy, your eyes become heavy too. The pendulum becomes heavy as you relax more and more."

"As the pendulum lowers, your eyes become lower too. Let your arm, your eyes, and your head lower with the pendulum. And the more it lowers, the more relaxed you're getting."

Nancy could feel her entire body relaxing. The pendulum was lowering into Neil's waiting hand, as Nancy gave way to her subconscious.

"Now…deep…deep…deep."

Nancy could feel herself floating in darkness. There was a chill that came over her.

"Nancy, I want you to visualize a vanity in front of you."

The darkness gave way to light as a vanity materialized in Nancy's mind.

"The vanity has a beautiful oval mirror. I want you to look at your reflection in the mirror."

Nancy could see her reflection.

"You should see yourself in the mirror first. Now, I want you to call out Becca."

"Becca," said Nancy to the mirror. Her words fell like cotton out of her mouth.

Nancy still could only see her reflection. "Becca didn't appear."

"Ask for Becca again, Nancy. Only lean closer to the mirror," said Neil. His voice sounded like the voice of God echoing from the sky.

"Becca," said Nancy. "I need to talk to you."

Becca still didn't materialize.

* * *

><p>"Nancy, you're not saying anything. So, I assume that Becca didn't appear. I'm going to count backwards from ten. Ten…nine…"<p>

As Nancy readied herself for consciousness, she didn't notice the armchairs snaking around her wrists. The wood tightened, and as Nancy opened her mouth to scream, only dust came out.

The vanity mirror spun around faster than a hummingbird's wings. It was only millimeters from striking Nancy in the face. She tried to will herself back to Dr. Forrest. But the more she squirmed, the farther that the wooden vines climbed upward—now reaching her neck. Nancy could've sworn that she saw fleeting images of Kris, Dean, and Jesse. And then, the mirror came to a sudden stop.

Nancy kept hoping to hear Dr. Forrest's voice again. But there was complete silence.

Then, Nancy was hearing a male voice but it wasn't Dr. Forrest's. At first, it was muffled until suddenly the wooden vines on her neck began to creep upward. Only this time, it was peeling the skin off of her face. She looked in the mirror helplessly. Her face was a bloody pulp, but it was morphing into a boy's face. She looked like a boy with a pockmarked face. His green eyes were piercing, and showed even through his light brown bangs. He spoke:

"I'm Aiden. After that preschool shit, my father got full custody of me. He didn't want me to grow up to be no faggot, so he taught me how to fuck people up—knife fighting, rifles, mixed martial arts. We lived up in Montana, so there were woods all around us. I really thought I was a 'bad ass.' I didn't know shit because he still got me."

Nancy could see Aiden sleeping. Then, she could see saw him rise up from his bed. It was not until he reached the kitchens backdoor that Nancy noticed Aiden was being dragged. Aiden disappeared into the thick woods.

"He bashed my head against a tree. The damage was so bad that they didn't recognize me at first. Coroner said it was a freak sleepwalking accident. Bullshit!"

Nancy's face began to peel off again. Another male face was appearing in the reflection. It was…Marcus Yeon.

"I never thought I'd love film. When I was turned onto Errol Morris's documentaries, I knew I found my calling. I started the webcam, hoping to escape the boredom of my small town. I wanted to create something, not follow what everybody else was doing. I'll never have that chance."

Nancy could see the coroner picking glass shards out of Marcus's eyes. His eyeball collapsed as the fluid seeped out.

The mirror kept spinning.

A heavyset girl with long brown hair appeared. She was layered in clothing. A gray dress covered by an even darker shawl. "I'm Calliope. I translated for people my whole life. So, when they were looking for an interpreter at the legal clinic, I thought why not? I was getting school credit for it too. I might've gone to college if he didn't come back for me." Nancy could see Calliope lying dead. Her tongue was draped over a light bulb, simmering in the heat."

The mirror spun again.

A buxom girl with moussed blonde hair appeared. Her eyes and lips were framed by neon eye shadow and red lip liner. "I'm Chantelle, but my friends called me Telly. Even though we moved, my parents knew that I was a lost cause. No amount of therapy was going to fix me. I was a bad student from elementary all the way through high school. I spent more time in detention than class. I didn't do much but party and sleep around. At one of the parties, I got raped by a guy I said no to. By then, I just felt empty. But Freddy came back…he took me in his arms." Nancy could see Telly writhing in her bed, as her body was crushed by invisible arms.

The mirror spun again.

"I'm Rhonda. I never forgot what happened. So, I used dancing as an escape." Rhonda still looked as she did in the preschool picture. She had a clear chocolate-brown complexion with her hair in two ponytails. When I turned eighteen, I was going to move to New York and attend Julliard. I wanted to be an inspiration to kids everywhere…that you can be strong no matter what." Nancy could Nia's body being discovered. You would've thought she was asleep until you removed the blanket. Her feet and legs were covered in third-degree burns.

The mirror spun again.

A girl with a freckled complexion appeared. Her light-brown hair was pulled back by a head band. She wore a navy blue cardigan with a white buttoned shirt underneath. She never once made eye contact with Nancy. "I'm Pauline. I never fit in with the other kids, so I spent a lot of time alone. I wasn't that great at school, even though I looked the part. The only thing that I had was church. I'd sit in the chapel for hours and daydream about different things. Dandelion fields…quiet places for me to go." Nancy could see Pauline's twisted body illuminated by candles. Her head had been squeezed through one of the pews.

The mirror spun again.

Nancy could see another girl with a perpetual sour expression. She looked severely underweight with dark bags under her eyes. "I'm Kaitlyn. I'm not going to give you a sob story like those other stupid fucks. I fell asleep and the bastard cut me up. The end."

The mirror spun again.

This time, Nancy's face wasn't eviscerated. The armchair vines vanished, and Nancy was able to move again. She was faced with a statuesque girl with a prideful look in her eyes. Her vermillion hair was pulled back in a ponytail. "I'm Allison. I'm not going to bore you with the details of my death. The fact is that we all couldn't move on because Freddy Krueger still exists. We have to stop him, and only you can help us."

* * *

><p>Before Allison could continue, Nancy's eyes shot open. Her vision focused until she could see her mother and Neil Forrest in the hallway. A nurse was in between them.<p>

"Ma'am, please, I need you to calm down," said the nurse.

"Don't tell me to calm down. I don't give a damn about your excuses!" yelled Gwen Holbrook. "My daughter had her cell phone on her. You would've found me…I'm listed as 'Mom' for Christ sakes! I went so far as contacting her boyfriend. And he's in Ohio."

"I would've made a better effort to contact you. But Nancy wasn't coming out of her trance. She showed signs of doing harm to herself, so I took precautions."

"My daughter is not a danger to herself. She has friends, she's doing well academically, and she even has a long-distance relationship. She's a normal girl."

"Then, she hasn't told you about her current condition?" inquired Dr. Forrest in a sarcastic tone.

"What current condition?" asked Gwen.

"I'll leave her to tell you that," said Dr. Forrest. "I have to go, as I'm already late for another engagement."

Dr. Forrest left in the opposite direction. The nurse turned in Nancy's direction.

"She's awake again," said the nurse, as she gave a quick visual evaluation of Nancy's condition. "I'll call the doctor. I'll be right back Ms. Holbrook."

Nancy could see her mother head-on. But instead of looking concerned, Nancy noticed a mixture of disappointment and anger in Gwen's face. _What do I do now?_ thought Nancy.


	7. Get Better

Nancy stood outside.

It was a grueling summer night. Perspiration beaded on her face, as she prayed for a cool breeze. Sweat droplets were dripping onto her shirt. Not even the sidewalk that she stood on offered refuge for her bare feet. Even though she was wearing shorts, Nancy's legs felt heavy and clammy.

Everything was still. None of the trees that covered the night sky swayed.

_Where am I?_ thought Nancy, as she drifted aimlessly down a neighborhood street. The houses all looked the same. It was the typical, cookie-cutter fashion that defines suburbia.

Nancy looked for any landmark, something that could tell her where she was. She would've known if she was in Berkeley—for even the neighborhoods had an urban feel to them.

She kept walking until she could see it unmistakably at the end of the block: Badham Preschool. Before Nancy could fully comprehend that she was on Elm Street, she heard singing powerful enough to stirred the branches above:

"I went to your house/Walked up the stairs/I opened your door without ringing the bell…"

She peered over her shoulder, and saw a light flickering in the nearest house. It was a two-story house lined with matchstick trees. Its ivory-colored exterior made it appear to glow. Its crimson door was ajar—beckoning for Nancy to enter its quarters.

Nancy walked cautiously up the brick stairs that led to the front entrance. As she stepped over the threshold, the lantern above her flickered a little.

"…And I shouldn't be here/Without permission/I shouldn't be here…"

When Nancy stepped into the residence, a sudden chill swept over her. Her sweat crackled with the sudden temperature change, and fell like ice off her skin. Nancy tried to focus her eyes, but she still couldn't see anything in the shadows.

It was as if the entire house was covered in black paint, save for the light coming from a bedroom upstairs. Nancy could see the silhouette of a girl combing her hair. There was a musty smell that permeated the rooms. It was as if all the air was sucked out of the room, and the only thing that remained was dust.

Nancy held onto the unsteady handrail as she walked up the rickety steps. The wood and paint flaked onto the floor. Nancy tried to walk as quietly as possible. Once she was at the top, she began walking down the corridor. All the doors were closed except for the one at the end of the hallway—the source of the light.

"I noticed a letter that sat on your desk…"

Nancy peered into what looked like a bathroom. Her eyes had to adjust to the shocking white colors that filled her eyesight. Everything was white—the shower curtain, the tile floor, and fixtures. When Nancy finally got a full view of the person singing, what she saw made her gasp.

"So forgive me love/If I cry in your shower…"

There was a girl standing in front a bathroom mirror. Only she wasn't combing her hair. She was pulling a straight razor across the top of her head.

"So forgive me love/For the salt in your bed…"

She was not only slicing off her hair into bloody clumps, but also her scalp. Parts of her skull glistened like a pink sapphire.

"So forgive me love/If I cry all afternoon…"

The straight razor made a clicking noise. The girl sensed Nancy's presence at the door. Before she fully turned to face Nancy, Nancy caught a glimpse of the girl's reflection in the mirror.

"Allison…" uttered Nancy.

Nancy could now see Allison's entire body. The girl was standing in her bra and underwear. The blood ran down from her head onto her shoulders onto her back. Her body quivered with sobs, but then a crazed smile appeared on Allison's face.

"I want to be strong for the others, but I shouldn't be telling you anything," said Allison.

She stuck the razor in her mouth. As Nancy screamed, Allison made the slice and her twitching tongue slid across the tile floor onto the moldy carpet that Nancy stood on.

Nancy stumbled back to get away from the sight, and leaned too hard against the railing. As she fell in slow motion, Allison peeked over where the railing was. Blood dripped from her mouth, and it landed on Nancy's cheek. Then, time sped up, and Nancy was hurtling towards the jagged steps below.

* * *

><p>Nancy shot up in her hospital bed. Just like in the dream, it felt like she was being deprived of oxygen.<p>

It took a little while for the convulsions and the panic to drift away. Nancy stood up and pulled the curtains to make sure she was awake. This proved to be a bad decision, as Nancy then had to shield her eyes from the sunlight.

When Nancy finally adjusted to her surroundings, she returned to her bed. As she pulled the sheets over her, Nancy once again felt the sadness from what happened last night. Her mother didn't stop with the questions. And Nancy repeated the same answers until her voice went raw. Gwen kept chiding Nancy for not trusting her.

Until Nancy blurted out in anger "Why should I trust you? You lied to me for years about that fucker! Now, I'm paying for it! Look at me!" The color drained from Gwen's face. She lowered her head for a moment and then walked out of the room.

It was already the start of a new day, and Nancy didn't know how to feel anymore. She didn't tell Gwen, let alone Neil, about the spirits that were haunting her. Sure, she told the friendly doctor about the first girl she saw. Since he was thinking it was a split personality, Nancy hoped that she didn't talk during her hypnosis. Then, he would know that it wasn't just one person that Nancy was seeing.

But was it all even real? After all, Nancy read about all of their deaths when she was researching about Badham Preschool. It could just be that her mind was playing tricks on her. But then, a year ago, wasn't it impossible that a man was attacking her in her dreams? Yet, look how quickly Nancy accepted that reality.

* * *

><p>"I'm so disappointed in you."<p>

Nancy hesitated for a moment before looking at the door. It was obvious. How could she ever confuse her friend Gretchen with another person? Gretchen was the only girl she knew who was six-feet-tall and owned it with a platinum blonde faux-hawk. She was wearing her favorite outfit—a fitted sleeveless mauve sweater with patent leather black heels. She was wearing black cat glasses that matched her shoes.

"You have your first Berzerkley freak out and you didn't invite the whole gang," said Gretchen.

"My invites got bounced back," responded Nancy. For the first time that week, a smile spread across Nancy's face.

"Just for that lie, I won't give you your chai," said Gretchen. She pretended to pull back her hand containing the chai latte, and then handed it to Nancy.

"Hey, you rhymed," said Nancy, as she took her cup from Gretchen.

"Blame it on my Keats class. I can't get 'Ode to Autumn' out of my head."

"This tastes so good," said Nancy, as she sipped fervently. "It's the best thing that's happened to me lately."

"Better than my morning so far. The security guard kept staring at my ass. He probably has a granddaughter my age." Nancy gave a hearty laugh as Gretchen's entire body shivered with the thought.

"Kidding aside, you really had us worried. Your mother went ape-shit last night. Calling Kelly, Alan, Violet, Quentin and me...She didn't know where you were, and she was scaring the hell out of us," said Gretchen, "I tried texting you a few times, but I wasn't getting any replies. Everyone else was doing the same thing. You can't do that again, Nance."

_Quentin_, thought Nancy. She knew that her mother never trusted Quentin, especially after that entire incident last year. She thought Quentin was a bad influence on Nancy. _My mother must've been really worried_. "I know, I'm sorry."

"What happened to you?" asked Gretchen.

"I've was getting therapy for this problem I've been having. So I tried hypnosis," said Nancy. She tried to sound as casual as possible. She was hoping that…

"Therapy for what?"

…Gretchen wouldn't press for details. Nancy had to think fast.

"Just for stress. You know, the first midterms are always stressful. I was trying to de-stress." Nancy couldn't believe her awkward response. It reminded her of her middle school days when she barely talked, and when she did, everything came out like a chopped sentence.

"And…you had a reaction or something?" asked a puzzled Gretchen.

"I don't know. I guess I didn't take too well to the hypnosis, and I began having seizures. To be honest, I still don't really know what happened. It's all a blur to me."

"Well, at least the hypnosis wasn't about aliens. I once saw a documentary about this Ohioan that was 'abducted' and probed for his sperm. Alan and I took a bet to see if you had such an experience."

"Uh, first, I'm not a guy. Second, do you think all of us Ohioans are crazy rednecks?" asked Nancy wryly. Gretchen gave Nancy a blank stare. "It wasn't because I was abducted by aliens."

"Yes!" cried out Gretchen. "Alan owes me twenty."

"Seriously, you both should be joined at the hip," said Nancy, as she plopped herself against her pillow.

"You know, speaking of Alan, lately…I don't know…I think he might be into me," said Gretchen.

"Really. You never told me anything," said Nancy

"You haven't been around lately. I don't know if you realize this, Nancy, but we haven't been seeing a lot of you," replied Gretchen.

Nancy thought about it for a moment. When was the last time she hung out with her friends?

"Well, as soon as you're feeling better, we've got to get your hair fixed. Your roots are showing," said Gretchen, as she took a strand of Nancy's hair.

"Maybe I'll just use Clairol," said Nancy.

"Okay, if you keep saying things like that, people will really think you're crazy," said Gretchen. "What's that?"

Gretchen's attention was on something atop the sheets. Nancy looked down, and picked up a clump of hair. As Gretchen was looking at the hair, Nancy looked at the spot where she picked it up from. There was a dime-sized bloodstain. She was hoping that Gretchen wouldn't see the spot.

_Allison?_

"Oh, Nancy, you're getting so stressed that your hair is falling out," said a sympathetic Gretchen. "You probably won't want to mention this to Quentin."

"I don't feel up to talking with Quentin right now," said Nancy, as she rubbed her eyes. "I already had it out with my mother yesterday. I don't want another confrontation."

"You think Quentin'll be pissed?" asked Gretchen.

"I haven't been talking to him lately. Just…too many things right now," said Nancy.

"Well, if you like, I can text him for you. At least to let him know that you're all right," responded Gretchen.

"I don't know. That might worry him even more," said Nancy.

"You introduced me to him on Skype. It's not like I'm a stranger to him," said Gretchen.

As Gretchen took out her phone, Nancy could see the bloodstain growing on her bed sheet. Nancy didn't have a chance to protest when Gretchen snapped a picture of her. The flash caught Nancy's attention.

"What the hell, Gretchen, what are you doing?" asked Nancy.

"I'm texting Quentin. I'm telling him that you don't have your phone and that I'm sending your picture to show that you're fine."

"That's not going to help."

Nancy saw that the blood was reaching the other side of the bed.

"Uh, yes it does. It tells him right now that you're indisposed. And it buys you time until you feel the itch to talk to him again."

Nancy gave an anxious look and shook her head. She looked back and forth from the bed to Gretchen texting.

Gretchen pressed the OK button. "There, problem solved. You can concentrate on getting better and keeping your hair."

Nancy almost jumped out of the bed when Gretchen turned her attention to the sheet. Gretchen leaned over the bed and stretched. Nancy could see the blood permeating Gretchen's clothes. When she laid back to adjust her glasses, her hands left bloody fingerprints on her lenses.

Nancy expected Gretchen to shriek from the blood, but then…nothing. _Did…did Gretchen even see the blood?_ _How could she not…it's covering the entire sheet…_

"What time is it?" asked Gretchen to herself, as she checked the time on her phone. "Uh, I want to stay here with you. But I better head off. First, I have to drop off my paper to a GSI. Then, I'm leaving my anthropology class early to take BART over to Daly City. My cousin needs me to watch her kid tonight."

"I understand. Thanks for coming by, Gretchen. I really needed this," said Nancy, holding up her cup to Gretchen. "And also for texting Quentin for me. You're right. It gives me a chance to regroup."

"No problem, Nancy. Get better okay. I'll come by tomorrow. Hopefully, the same security guard won't be here."

As Gretchen stood up, Nancy could still see the bloodstains on Gretchen's sweater. It began to take the shape of a face. It opened its mouth in a silent scream, and then disappeared. Nancy looked at her bed, and the blood disappeared as well.

"See you, Nance," said Gretchen.

"See you, Gretchen."

Nancy picked up the clump of hair that she found earlier. Only it was no longer red—the strands were completely gray.

* * *

><p><strong>Song Used in this Chapter: "Your House" by Alanis Morissette. Album: Jagged Little Pill.<strong>


	8. Number One

Quentin could faintly hear the ringtone. He opened his eyes and could see the phone lighting up. _Is it morning already?_ He sat up halfway, bunching the bed sheet around his waist. _When did I fall asleep?_ Nancy's mother called last night, looking for Nancy's whereabouts. She was missing, and Quentin waited for hours by the phone for an update. He was hoping that it was Nancy on the phone.

He barely flipped his phone open when the text "Nancy's ok. She'll call once she has access to her phone" appeared. There was a picture of Nancy in her hospital bed. While she looked all right from the picture, Quentin still didn't know what had happened. The text was from Gretchen, Quentin's least favorite new friend of Nancy's. There was something about girls like Gretchen that really irked Quentin. _Look, we know that you come from a privileged background—so stop trying to look like an angst-ridden hipster_.

"Isn't that calling the kettle black, Quentin?" asked Freddy, as his face appeared over Quentin's shoulder.

Before Quentin could fully react, Freddy lifted him up and pinned him against the wall. He bent his charred face close to Quentin's left hand, which contained the phone.

"Um, my little Nancy," Freddy said seductively, as he licked the phone's screen. Quentin quivered against Freddy's hold. "I wish I could bury my nose in your hair."

Quentin tried to focus his eyes on the roof. _Wake up damn it, wake up already._ "Don't think I forgot about you, Quentin." Freddy's gloved hand moved from Quentin's right arm, and rested on his right breast. Quentin tried to remain steady, so that Freddy's knives wouldn't cut his nipple and neck.

"Do you remember the fun we used to have, Quentin? I used to show you what the…differences were…between men and boys." Freddy laughed, as he pointed the index finger of his gloved hand. He stroked it down Quentin's chest towards the top of his boxers. The knife sounded like a blade rubbing against leather, but it never pierced Quentin's skin.

Freddy stroked his index finger's knife against the elastic band of Quentin's shorts. Every muscle or appendage in Quentin's lower body either shrank or tightened. Freddy then bent forward to whisper in Quentin's right ear. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you. I have special plans for you, Quentin. Since Nancy's not around, you're going to be my number one."

Freddy's laughter echoed in Quentin's ear. He cringed from the smell of burnt flesh and decay, but there was nothing he could do about it. Quentin had his eyes clenched tight when he could hear his ringtone. At first, it sounded like it was coming from a tunnel. Then, the sound intensified.

Quentin opened his eyes. He was still braced against his bed post, but his phone was on the bed. _It must've fallen out of my hands when…never mind _thought Quentin, as he reached for the phone.

"You have a collect call from NANCY. If you would like to accept this call, press '1.'"

Quentin pressed "1" frantically. "Hello?" asked Quentin.

"Hello, Quentin?" said Nancy.

"Oh my god, I'm so glad to hear your voice," stammered Quentin.

"I'm glad to hear you too. I figured you got Gretchen's text, so I wanted to call you," said Nancy.

"But…the text said you didn't have your phone," said Quentin.

"I'm calling you from a payphone," said Nancy.

"Wow, you have those still?" asked Quentin.

"Yeah…maybe it's a hospital policy or something," said Nancy. By the tone of her voice, Quentin could tell that she was smiling.

"How are you doing?" asked Quentin.

"Honestly, I feel like I got hit by a freight train," replied Nancy.

"I know the feeling," responded Quentin. He could still feel the cold chill of Freddy's knives. "What happened to you?"

"I…I need to confess something, Quentin," said Nancy.

"Okay, what is it?" asked Quentin.

"I haven't been calling you lately for a reason," said Nancy. "It's because…"

Suddenly, Quentin's left ear swelled up. He looked into the mirror, and noticed that it was charred—like Freddy's ear. _Oh shit,_ thought Quentin, _he's hearing what Nancy is telling me. _

Quentin thought fast. "Hello…hello…Nancy, you're breaking up…I can't hear you…hello." When Quentin hung up his phone, a sharp pain registered through his left arm. Quentin looked down, and saw flashes of his arm turning from his flesh to Freddy's burned sweater.

"That was a nasty trick, Quentin," hissed Freddy.

"What the fuck are you doing to me?" asked Quentin out of a mixture of fear and anger.

"I told you…you're my new number 1," replied Freddy.

"Fuck you!" yelled Quentin.

"Oh, there's no need for that language. You should respect your elders. There's so much I need to teach you, Quentin—including how to address a lady."

"You're not going to hurt her again," said Quentin, desperately. He was shaking from the pain in his arm. He squeezed his left ear in hopes that it would return back to normal.

"Oh, Quentin, there's no need to be jealous," said Freddy. "You and I are going to be getting closer. Just you see."


	9. Elm Street

His words echoed in Quentin's mind: "Oh, Quentin, there's no need to be jealous. You and I are going to be getting closer. Just you see."

The stress was too much for Quentin. He slammed himself against the wall to shake Freddy's influence. He was almost relieved to feel the ringing in his ear. His extremities were sore from the impact, but the goal was met: Freddy seemed to be out of Quentin's system.

There was a knock on Quentin's door.

"Hey man, are you all right?" yelled a voice on the other side. It was Quentin's next door neighbor, Randy. He sounded both concerned and stoned.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I just slipped, that's all," replied Quentin.

"All right, man," said Randy. Quentin could hear his plodding footsteps walking away.

Quentin looked at his reflection. His ear was fine. So were the rest of his extremities. Several thoughts raced through Quentin's mind as he got dressed.

First, how did Freddy come back? Whatever he and Nancy did to Freddy was enough to keep him at bay for about a year. What changed?

Second, why was Quentin having these episodes? If he was sleep-deprived, it could all be explained by micro-naps. But Quentin was sleeping fine until last night.

Third, why hasn't Freddy gone after Nancy? This was something that Quentin was not entirely sure about. She was about to say something important to him over the phone. But he knew Nancy. She would've told him right off.

Quentin had to go back to the hospital. Perhaps there was something there that triggered Freddy's return.

* * *

><p>Quentin didn't realize how hard it was raining until he left his apartment. But he wasn't going to let the weather deter him from his mission. He gripped the wheel hard as he made the turn onto Elm Street. <em>Come on, Quentin, fix this. Don't let him get the upper-hand. You need to stop him from getting to Nancy.<em> Did he already get to Nancy?

Suddenly, a blonde little girl in a blue dress dashed in front of his car. _Kris?_ Quentin instinctively swerved and hit the curb. While the minor crash did not deploy the airbag, Quentin was still jolted. Quentin jumped out of the car to inspect the damage. Thankfully, there were no cars on the block. With a flat tire and dented hood, there was no way that Quentin would be driving back home.

The rain had already soaked through Quentin's clothes, as he scrambled for his phone in his coat pocket. He ran towards the nearest house, and took refuge underneath its vestibule. Quentin dialed for a tow truck, but he couldn't get a connection. He cursed to himself in frustration.

Quentin jumped in fright when the wind blew the door behind him open. The dilapidated, crimson door flapped back and forth like cardboard. _I'm not going in there_, thought Quentin. The vestibule split open from the rain's pressure. Quentin dashed into the door to escape the water and debris.

He looked at his surroundings. There was still some furniture in the house. Most of it was covered by white blankets yellowed with age and mold. Quentin could see framed photographs on the wall. He could barely make out the subjects, as the glass frames were layered with dust. The air felt oppressive and stifling. Quentin needed to get out of there—even if he had to walk all the way to the hospital.

Quentin made for the door when it slammed shut. The only light was the grayness that poured in through the door's window. A black mist began to formulate at the entrance until it became a shape familiar to Quentin. Freddy's torso and outstretched arms were blocking the entrance. The shadowy knives passed over the wall, and the rotted wood crumbled by the force. Quentin didn't dare go for the stairs. So, in an act of desperation, he ran along the stairway's wall until he felt a doorknob. Quentin opened the door, and barricaded himself inside.

With no light, Quentin turned on his phone. An eerie green light filled his surroundings. Luckily, he didn't take a step forward. Otherwise, he would've gone tumbling down the staircase.

There was banging on the door. Quentin decided to take his chances down in the basement. Water drops echoed throughout the space. Quentin covered his nose, for there was a stench that smelled like a combination of raw sewage and decay. He dashed to the left, as he almost stepped on a rat's corpse.

Quentin was now walking on the basement floor. He shone his cell phone light around the space. He could see objects covered in cobwebs: dolls, boxes with writing on them, and photo albums. Quentin noticed a framed photograph standing in one of the boxes. He grabbed it and shined the light on it. He could make the features out of a teenage girl. The picture began to flash like a television screen, and the image changed from the girl to her body lying face down on the street.

The basement filled with an orange light. Quentin felt the heat immediately. It was coming from a boiler located in the corner. Freddy was standing there. His finger knives were a fluorescent red from the fire.

* * *

><p>Quentin dashed out of the basement as fast as he could. He flung the door open, and collided with a figure. It sent him to the ground. He tried to drag himself away as fast as he could. That is, until he noticed who the figure was.<p>

"Mackenzie?" asked a surprised Quentin.

Mackenzie rubbed her head. Quentin must've collided hard with her.

"What the hell was that?" asked Mackenzie, as she made eye contact with Quentin.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you," said Quentin.

"Oh, I saw your car back there. I thought you were hurt so I came in here," said Mackenzie.

"Yeah, I was trying to get reception…so I came in here," said Quentin. He tried to help Mackenzie as he got into a standing position.

"And you thought the basement would give you the best reception?" asked Mackenzie, as she stood up with Quentin's assistance.

"Yeah, that was pretty dumb of me," said Quentin.

"Dumb, indeed. All of these houses are condemned," said Mackenzie. "These houses are hazardous. You can get tetanus just by touching the doorknobs."

"I didn't know that," said Quentin.

"Come on, I'll give you a lift to the hospital. We can call a tow truck there for you," said Mackenzie, as she proceeded out of the front entrance.

"That'd be great. I guess I lucked out that you were passing by," said Quentin.

"Well, they'll be starting construction soon. They're tearing down these houses. Some of this land will be a parking space, and other parts will be devoted to future expansion projects."

"Really?" asked Quentin. "So all of Elm Street will be devoted to the hospital?"

"It feels a bit eerie. I mean…all of these houses used to be occupied. And now, there's nobody here. Where'd you get that picture?" asked Mackenzie.

Quentin looked down. He was still holding the picture from the basement. The rainwater sent streaks down the glass. As the dust washed away, Quentin was able to make out the features of the person. It was a young girl with red hair. He looked at the back of the picture frame. "Alice" was written on it with chalk.

"I don't know. I guess it belonged to one of the occupants," said Quentin.


	10. Real Time

Nancy slammed the phone down in frustration. She really needed her cell phone, but it wasn't like her mother was going to give it back to her. Since Dr. Forrest refused to give out any details, Gwen was probably sifting through Nancy's phone activity. Nancy would have to find another way to reach Quentin. Perhaps if she found a better working phone, she'll have better success.

Upon returning to her room, Nancy could see the bloody pattern on the sheets. It was spreading from a face to a full torso. The figure was writhing in an obscene way.

"What do you want from me!" screamed Nancy, as she gathered her belongings and rushed out of the room. She changed to her street clothes in one of the hospital bathrooms, and headed straight for Berkeley Public Library. Contacting Quentin would have to wait.

* * *

><p>Nancy needed answers. She was going to start by finding that house. Her nightmare made it clear that it was located on Elm Street. While Nancy was able to get a street view of Elm Street, she hoped that Google Maps kept its data up-to-date.<p>

She studied each residence until she found it: 1428 Elm Street. It was amazing how derelict the house looked when compared to Nancy's dream. In the Google Maps photograph, Nancy could barely make out what used to be a crimson door. What must have once been an ivory-colored exterior looked a sickly yellow. All of the windows were boarded.

"Shit," muttered Nancy, as the computer flashed the "blue screen of death." Before she could restart the computer manually, the screen kicked back to normal again. Only this time, Nancy saw something different.

"Quentin?" Nancy whispered to herself, as his image flashed in real time on Google Maps. His movements were choppy, but she can see him standing at the house's front entrance.

A female figure was standing on the steps, beckoning him. _Who is that?_ thought Nancy. Her face blanched with jealousy. She could see that their lips were moving. Nancy reached into her coat in the hopes that she had her ear buds.

By the time she plugged them in, Quentin and the female were already walking away from the house. "No, damn it," said Nancy.

Nancy gasped when she looked again at the front entrance. It was him, standing there. _Freddy_. "You can't be back. We closed the door on you."

Freddy stirred as if he heard Nancy's voice. "Little Nancy, come out and play."

Nancy froze in fear. His eyes were slowly looking up. _Oh my god, he's going to see me_.

A force flung the CPU and computer screen off the table.

"The fuck!" exclaimed a male patron.

"What's the meaning of this?" asked a librarian sternly, as he made his way towards the computer area.

"This lady threw the computer off the table," said the male patron. Nancy could barely make out the men's faces as she backed out towards the exit.

"Miss, come back here," said the librarian. He was kneeling on the floor to inspect the broken equipment.

Nancy kept walking backwards in haste until she felt a force pull her.

* * *

><p>Nancy fought against the force until she realized she was in a foyer.<p>

"Relax, it's me," said Marcus. "You're safe now."

"Where am I?" asked Nancy.

"I had to take over for a bit. You're in Shattuck Cinemas," replied Marcus.

"Take over?" asked Nancy.

"You were really freaking out at the library. So, I stepped in and smoothed everything out with the librarian. I said you had an inner ear infection, and that you've been off balance," explained Marcus.

"Yeah, he spun some real magical bullshit," chimed in an annoyed Kaitlyn.

"Could you stop cussing like a sailor for a minute, Kaitlyn?" asked Rhonda.

"For fuckity fucks sake, Rhonda, why are you saying I have a shitty attitude?" replied Kaitlyn.

Rhonda rolled her eyes. "Yeah, very grown up."

"I don't have to fucking grow up, Rhonda. I'm a forever dead teenager," said Kaitlyn, as she extended her arms in a combative motion.

Nancy started to walk away in the hopes that they would disappear. Instead, she was face to face with Allison and the others.

"You need to be more careful. If you keep looking for him, he's going to find you," said Allison.

"I wasn't looking for him. I was looking for a house on Elm Street. You know… the one that you cut yourself in when you appeared in my dream," said Nancy.

"What's she talking about?" asked Calliope.

"And I found it. Only, I also saw my boyfriend," Nancy said to herself out loud. She turned her attention to the group. "If you're the reason why Freddy's back…"

"Hey, we didn't bring him back. Why don't you call up your boyfriend and ask him why he's hanging around Elm Street," said Aiden. His temper was rising along with his voice. Allison placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Easy, Aiden, it's all right. Nancy's just a little frustrated. Come on, everyone. Disappear for a while, okay, so Nancy and I can talk," said Allison.

The group turned and vanished into the wall, except for Aiden. "I got this," said Allison firmly. He reluctantly joined the others.

"Look, I know you're pissed that we hijacked your mind. I'm not going to shit you, okay. We're in your head, and you have every right to want us out," said Allison.

"So, get out," said Nancy.

"It's not that easy," said Allison.

"Why not? You're all dead. Pass on into the light like they always say," said Nancy.

"You think that wasn't Plan A for all of us?" asked Allison sarcastically.

"It sure beats your Plan B…which is fucking with my head," responded Nancy.

"Well, I apologize for the mind fuck. I didn't mean for it to happen this way. But we're running out of time," said Allison.

"What do you mean?" asked Nancy.

"You didn't see me in that house. You saw her," said Allison.

"Who's her?" asked a confused Nancy.

"My mother…Alice," responded Allison.


	11. It Goes Two Ways

_Alice _thought Quentin. There was something coy about her half-smile in the picture. It was almost as if she was flirting with someone…perhaps the photographer?

"I thought you had a girlfriend," said Mackenzie.

"I do. Why?" asked Quentin.

"Well, you would know that a girl doesn't like competition," said Mackenzie.

"Come again?" asked Quentin.

"You've been paying more attention to that girl than me. I didn't just pick you up to be a Good Samaritan, Ohio State. I'm fucking dying for adult conversation. Lately, I've been surrounded by kids. Either them, or I'm surrounded by the ivory tower asses that work for Baker & Ford."

"Sad story," said Quentin.

"Smart ass...man, my hair looks like shit," said Mackenzie, as she studied herself self-consciously in the rearview mirror.

"It's kind of tough to rock a pixie cut in the rain," said Quentin.

"Not when you've sprayed enough hairspray to put a dent in the ozone," said Mackenzie, "You owe me a drink for pulling you out of that condemned house."

"Uh, I'm a few years shy of the drinking age," said Quentin.

"Then I guess we'll be going to my place then," said Mackenzie.

"Cool," said Quentin as nonchalantly as he could. "But what about my car?"

"I'll call my insurance company and have it towed to the hospital," said Mackenzie. "It'll probably take a while there, as I need to check on one of my patients."

Quentin was a bit surprised by how quickly Mackenzie shifted to her professional persona.

"What's going on with your patient…if you don't mind me asking," said Quentin.

"So long as you don't print anything about it. I'm working on an article for JAMA," said Mackenzie. "My patient is pretty special."

"Sounds intriguing. Perhaps you'll win a Nobel Prize for your efforts," said Quentin.

"See, I can't tell if you're being genuine or facetious," replied Mackenzie.

"I'm totally being genuine," said Quentin.

"Good, then I can trust you. You'll have to wear a lab coat. House rules," said Mackenzie.

Quentin wondered what he was getting into.

* * *

><p>Quentin felt confined and itchy in his lab coat. Mackenzie must've given him one that hadn't been washed in years. It even had that musty smell. Whoever wore it before must've sweated a lot. It probably didn't help matters that he was soaked to the bone from the rain outside. He clutched the clipboard that Mackenzie gave to him as a decoy close to his chest.<p>

"Let me peek in first," said Mackenzie, as she motioned for Quentin to wait in the hallway.

Quentin shifted nervously in his shoes. He had double anxiety. For starters, this was the place that Freddy had victimized him and the others. Also, he wondered if the security guard would out him—as he maintained a suspicious gaze on Quentin.

"All right, the patient is available for observation," said Mackenzie. Quentin started to head for the door.

"No, we're going to observe her from another room," said Mackenzie, as she opened the door to an adjacent room that looked like the size of a storage closet.

Quentin entered the room hesitantly. "Two-way mirrors. I don't remember this being shown during the tour."

"It's for a pet project. Once the hospital is properly running, there will be a push towards child psychology. For now, we just have family practice physicians."

"So, which team are you playing for?" asked Quentin.

"Let's just say I'm on the fence. I think the hospital should be focusing on providing optimal child care. Eventually, though, we need to reach out to the children with cognitive and emotional problems," replied Mackenzie.

"Did you practice that for your article?" asked Quentin.

"I'm considering it for my introduction," said Mackenzie with a wink.

Quentin looked through the mirror. He could see a little girl drawing at a miniature easel.

"This feels eerily like _Law & Order_," said Quentin. "Mixed with _To Catch a Predator_."

"Well, I was going to bring you in the room to meet her. But lately she's been spooked by male figures, so I thought going incognito was better," said Mackenzie.

"Why is she spooked by men?" asked Quentin.

"I suspect it's because she watched as her father murdered her mother," said Mackenzie.

"That would do it. Poor girl," said Quentin.

"At first I pitied her too," said Mackenzie. "There's something resilient about her. I can't explain it but it's as if she's doing you a favor by acknowledging you."

"What's her name?" asked Quentin.

"Kristen," said Mackenzie.

Just then, Kristen stopped painting at her easel, and looked straight at the two-way mirror. Quentin was able to look at her piercing blue eyes. She wore thick glasses that almost overpowered her small head.

Kristen flipped over the drawing paper, and painted in heavy, angry strokes. She took the drawing paper off the easel, and showed it to the two-way mirror. A chill fell over Quentin. Kristen had painted four slash marks…the sign of Freddy.

Quentin turned away from the sight. He spoke with his back turned towards Mackenzie, who was preoccupied with checking a notebook.

"You said that she was unique. What is it about her that caught your attention?" asked Quentin. He tried to speak without any shakiness in his voice.

"At first, she just seemed like she was suffering from migraines. Then, Kristen started to exhibit extraordinary intelligence. I haven't completed my testing yet, but I suspect the she has Asperger's Syndrome. She exhibits some symptoms…lack of social skills, repetitive behaviors, sophisticated vocabulary…"

"Maybe she's just an old soul," said Quentin.

"I wouldn't be surprised," said Mackenzie. "She's fascinated with this town's history…even going so far as saying that she dreams of past events."

"Dreams of past events?" asked Quentin. "If that's the case, you should skip the article and go straight towards publishing a book."

"I'm not saying I believe her," said Mackenzie. "She probably just has vivid dreams. Not too sound narrow-minded or anything, but dreams are nothing more than the brain sifting through thoughts. They have no bearing whatsoever."

"You'd be amazed," said Quentin, "Sometimes I wish I never dreamed again."

Mackenzie gave a double look at Quentin.

"I never remember my dreams. Hopefully, that doesn't mean that I lack imagination," said Mackenzie. Quentin and she shared a lighthearted laugh.

* * *

><p>"I don't know how to thank you for the tow truck," said Quentin, as he and Mackenzie entered her condo.<p>

"Don't mention it," said Mackenzie. "That doesn't mean that you're skipping the drink with me."

"I wouldn't do that to you," said Quentin.

"Good. So, I've got some Chardonnay that I haven't opened yet," said Mackenzie. "Do you mind doing the honors? I couldn't handle a corkscrew if my life…"

Quentin clumsily kissed Mackenzie. He didn't know what compelled him to do it. He loved Nancy…loves Nancy. Yet, there was something that Mackenzie seemed to possess that Quentin lacked from Nancy. Was it because Mackenzie had such a careless attitude? She didn't have the same baggage that Nancy carried with her from what Freddy did to the both of them. Mackenzie was fresh because she was a stranger, and Quentin liked that.

At first, Mackenzie looked astonished. But then, she heaved passionately and Quentin took it as a sign to kiss her again.

In their flurry of kisses, Mackenzie whispered to him: "I've known what you've been thinking…ever since you approached me outside."

They moved to Mackenzie's sofa. As he lay on top of her, Quentin kissed her neck and chest. He began to unbutton her blouse, lustily feeling her silk bra. He hungered for her. _Hey Quentin, are you going to slip her some tongue?_ echoed a voice in Quentin's head. His tongue shot out like a bloated, slimy monstrosity.

"Oh Quentin," uttered Mackenzie, as Quentin watched his tongue swirl about her neck in aghast. He grabbed at his tongue, and tried to force it back into his mouth.

"What's wrong?" asked Mackenzie.

"I better go," mumbled Quentin, as he kept his mouth covered.

"Are you okay? What's wrong with your mouth?" asked Mackenzie. She reached for Quentin's hands. Quentin resisted her grip.

"Come on, I might be able to help," said Mackenzie. Quentin panicked as Mackenzie's hands grabbed his away from his mouth.

Quentin flinched away from her, and headed for the door. He stormed out into the rainy afternoon.

"Quentin! Quentin!" called Mackenzie.


End file.
